


Day 7- Bruises

by Broken_Clover



Series: Goretober 2018 [7]
Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Caretaking, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: With Valentine and the Vizuel threat dealt with, a tired and injured Izuna returns home.





	Day 7- Bruises

Despite appearances, Izuna wasn’t invincible. The kitsune may have been far stronger than a human, but he still had his limits. He often preferred peaceful methods, though he certainly wasn’t above a good spar every so often, a friendly little bout between buddies.

Valentine had neither been friendly nor gentle. Izuna knew that the powerful, mysterious woman had given them all quite a thrashing, but he didn’t realize just how sore his body was until he had finally bid farewell to his new companions before returning home for the night to check up on his old companions back at Underworld Hill.

“Hey, guys, I’m home!” He called out into the foliage as the final remnants of the teleportation faded behind him. “Everyone doing alright?”

“Izuna!”

“Izuna-sama is home!”

“Guys, guys! It’s senpai!”

Accompanying the sound of rustling leaves, clattering wood, and thundering footsteps, Izuna found himself surrounded by a small army of various types of Yokai. After such a long, tiring day, it was reassuring to see some familiar smiling faces.

“Good to see you guys! Sorry I wasn’t back sooner, today was _seriously_ killer. It’s a ridiculous story, why don’t we…”

As he spoke, he noticed that the jovial expressions of his friends were melting into something more muted. Some looked outright horrified, but most of them simply looked concerned.

“Uh…guys?” Izuna gave a nervous chuckle. “Everything okay? Still coming off the brainwashing?”

“Uncle Izuna,” one of the Nekomata padded closer to him, wringing her hands together. “Don’t those hurt? They look really bad.”

“Huh? What are you talking about, sweetie, I’m…”

As Izuna looked down, he realized what everyone had looked so concerned over. He would have noticed if he had been bleeding, but as it seemed, the soreness all over his body had manifested in an array of ugly violet bruises. They stood out prominently against his pale skin, which probably didn’t help at all in making them look not painful.

“Oh, ah, would you look at that!” He smiled awkwardly, trying to think of a way to calm everyone down. “Guess I bit off a little more than I can chew…”

Nekomata hopped up, gently placing a hand on his back to guide him towards one of the buildings. An Ittan-momen slipped up on his other side, twining his thin, soft arms around Izuna’s shoulder to help him along. All the others parted around them, several skittering off towards the building far quicker than the plodding pace Nekomata took would allow.

“Guys, really, it’s okay! It really looks worse than it feels-”

“No need play tough guy, sir!” Ittan-momen shook his head. “You look exhausted. You helped us all, let us help you now!”

Izuna decided to amuse them. A quiet evening did sound nice to him, anyway.

His companions lead him to one of the larger rooms, where most of the rest of the Yokai had gathered. A Kirin was unrolling one of the nicer futons, a pair of Tengu were busying themselves with a large pot of herbal tea, and Namahage had managed to procure a bowl of oranges.

“Just sit down and rest, okay, uncle Izuna?” Nekomata helped him down onto the futon, planting a little kiss on his cheek.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” He smiled as she plunked down near him. A few Ittan-momen fluttered up to join their brother, and immediately began fretting over their leader.

“It seems worst across the chest…”

“Sir, what have we said about protecting yourself?” One tutted.

Izuna shrugged innocently, immediately regretting it. “Couldn’t let ‘em hurt the doc, could I?”

The Yokai shook his head in dismay. “We don’t want _you_ getting hurt, sir.”

The cloth-spirits seemed to have finished with their complaints, and set to work trying to tend to his injuries. Though he tried to keep a calm face, Izuna flinched and hissed in pain as the edges of his bruises were prodded and poked.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, uncle Izuna.” Nekomata weaseled her way in between the momen to stroke his hair.

“I’m alright, kiddo. But thank you.”

“Kirameki, can you lend us a hand?” A momen gestured to one of the Kirin.

He swiftly trotted forward, hooves clacking against the wood. “Yessir?”

“We should ice his bruises, can you make some for us?”

“O-of course!”

With a few little incantations and gestures, little clusters of ice began forming in his palms. The Ittan-momen snatched the ice and began wrapping it up in their cloth threads. Nekomata helped Izuna slip off his jacket and sword before helping tie up the ice.

When it was sufficiently bound, the little group used the ends of the fabric to tie them around Izuna’s body. The fox-spirit gave a little sigh at the sensation, feeling the faintly throbbing soreness begin to fade.

“That should do it.” A momen nodded in approval, tying one final knot in place.

Izuna reached up to touch one of the makeshift bandages. “Everyone, thank you…I guess I’m a lucky fox to have such good friends.”

“Of course, sir!” The Kirin smiled politely. “Yokai take care of each other.”

Nekomata threw arms around his neck. “Okay- okay- okay! Now we have to let uncle Izuna rest! He’s had a super-long day!”

He had no time to protest. The Yokai quietly and politely exited the room, off to go do whatever they had been doing before his arrival. Kirin and the Ittan-momen offered a final parting word or two before heading off to join their kin.

Finally, Nekomata pushed him back into the futon, tossing the blanket over his body. “Goodnight, uncle Izuna.”

He watched her leave, settling back into the futon when he realized that he was alone. Izuna wasn’t used to being fussed over, but he’d be lying to say that he wasn’t touched. They really were wonderful friends, weren’t they? Even with the Vizuel, Valentine, and all the madness that had come from them, at least he always had his family.


End file.
